13. Draven
Chapter 13
Draven
After cutting the engine, I dismount, remove my helmet, and run a hand over the top of my head as I glance up to the fifth floor. The drapes part, and Louise’s face appears in the window. She must have heard the throaty growl of the bike. From here, it’s difficult to gauge her mood. I know what it cost her to apologize to me yesterday. If the roles were reversed, I’d have struggled just the same, but that doesn’t mean I’m not still pissed off, because I am. I told her to fucking trust me, and she didn’t.
It cut me deep that she thought I could not only condone, but arrange the gang rape of a woman. That’s going to take me some time to put aside, and a lot more groveling from her before I fully accept her apology.
Without acknowledging her, I enter the building and take the stairs two at a time. She’s already waiting outside her apartment for me when I exit the stairwell onto her floor, dressed in skin-tight black jeans, a fitted pale pink button-down, and a pair of ankle boots with a two-inch heel.
My dick, oblivious to what she did to me yesterday, twitches.
Damn those legs… practically all the way up to her armpits. They’d look fantastic hooked over my hips, her back braced against the wall as I pound into her while bending my head to suck on those fabulous tits. Oh yeah, despite the contained fury that’s kept me awake most of the night, I still want to fuck her, but if she thinks she’s getting heart-eyes and scented flowers…
Bad luck, sweetcheeks. One punishment fuck coming right up.
“Draven?”
Realizing I’ve been daydreaming, I jerk my attention back to the present. “What?”
“Are you coming inside?”
If I wasn’t still raging at her, I’d answer with something along the lines of, “You bet your ass I’m coming inside.” Instead, I shrug out of my backpack and skate past her.
“What’s up?” she asks as she closes the door behind me. “Your text was cryptic.”
I plunk into an overstuffed chair, set the bag on the floor, and make the decision to park our personal issues until we’ve found her sister. I’m good at compartmentalizing things until it’s time to unpack them. Even better, she won’t see it coming, but one way or another, I’m exacting more than an apology for what she did to me yesterday.
“I’ve had every member of my team and a few other contacts drafted in, working through the night and all of today, trying to find as much intel on Arjan Shala as they can.” I twist my lips to the side. “He’s bad news. Originally from Albania, he’s built up a decent sized business running girls in Europe. Two years ago, he appeared in the States, basing himself in California to snatch desperate girls crossing the border from Mexico in the hopes of a better life in the US.” I snort. “Some life, huh?”
Her face turns ashen, and she jams her hands under her armpits but doesn’t say anything. I know she’s thinking about what her sister could be facing while we’re sitting here in comfort and safety.
“Three months ago, Shala shifts his operations to the northeast, but he’s been lying low, probably working on this deal in the background. My guess is that once he laid the groundwork and found enough paying customers, his men began taking the girls.”
Louise pulls her hands from under her arms and presses her fingertips into her temples, rubbing in circular motions. “Oh, God,” she mutters, her eyes on the floor. “Kiera…”
I get up, settle beside her on the couch, and slip an arm around her shoulders. See, good at compartmentalizing.
Her entire body trembles. “I can’t bear it, Draven.” She rests her head on my shoulder, and something shifts in my chest. It isn’t sympathy. I don’t fucking do sympathy.
I clear my throat. “We’ll get her back.”
“How?”
“Because I’m fucking amazing.” My egotistical response brings a faint smile to her lips.
“Arrogant ass.”
“That, too,” I say. “So, do you want to hear my plan?”
She sits up straighter. “You have a plan?”
“Did you doubt me again, Lola?”
Her throat bobs as she swallows. “About that…”
I raise a hand. “Not now. Let’s focus.” Once I’ve grabbed the backpack off the floor, I delve inside and remove a red wig and a pair of thick-framed glasses. “These are for you.”
She frowns, taking the wig from me, but leaving me holding the glasses. “What on earth am I supposed to do with this?”
“Wear it.”
She rolls her eyes. “I get that, but why?”
“Because I can see Kiera in you, and I don’t want to take any chances. The wig and the glasses will detract from the similarities between you.”
“You’re not making sense, Draven.”
“We’re going to a club.”
“What club? And why do I need a disguise to go there? Jesus, it’s like pulling teeth.”
“It’s Arjan Shala’s club.”
She sucks in a sharp breath, the air whistling through her teeth. “He owns a club? Do you think he might be holding Kiera there?” she asks, her voice rising with false hope.
“Doubt it.”
Her shoulders sag and she drops the wig in her lap. “Then, what’s the point in going?”
“Because my sources tell me he’s going to be there tonight, and if that’s true, it’s our chance to get a look at the guy in person, watch his movements, maybe even stumble across a piece of intel.” I hand her a card. “Memorize this. Probably overkill, but I’d prefer not to take any chances.”
She glances down, skimming her cover story in the unlikely event we draw suspicion and end up being questioned.
“Bonnie? Really? And who the fuck are you? Clyde?”
A chuckle skips through my chest. Even when I’m pissed at her, she delights me. “Ciaran came up with the names, so blame him. I’m Harrison Bennett.”
She snorts. “Sorry, but you can’t pull off a Harrison. He’s a lawyer, clean-shaven, short hair, drives a Prius, recycles his waste, and returns home from work before six.”
“You’re wrong. He’s a long-haired, bearded super-hunk who has a ten-inch cock and fucks his lady over the dinner table every night.”
She narrows her eyes. “I take it you’re describing yourself?”
“And you’re hoping his lady’s name is Bonnie, right?”
Rolling her eyes in what’s becoming a regular habit, she mutters, “You’re a gigantic dick.”
“No, sweetcheeks. I have a gigantic dick. Get it right.”
She snatches the glasses from me, launches to her feet, and stomps across the room. The door to her bathroom slams shut, and I can’t help but grin. I fucking love baiting her. It’s my new favorite hobby.
When she returns, I barely recognize the woman standing before me. The change of hair color, longer length, coupled with the glasses completely changes her face. Even if we do bump into Shala, he’ll be hard-pressed to make any connection between her and Kiera.
“Well,” she says, gesturing to the side and performing a curtsey. “Will I do?”
Her face may have changed, but I’d recognize that sassy attitude and smoking bod anywhere. When it comes to the latter, the image is burned onto my fucking eyeballs.
I rise from the sofa. “You’ll do.”
“Good,” she says. “Then, let’s get going.” She snatches her car keys off the kitchen counter and heads for the door, but I beat her to it.
“Gimme the keys.”
She raises her chin, her defiance shining in the cut of her jaw. “No. It’s my car, and I’m driving.”
I release a harsh sigh. “Fuck’s sake, woman. Do you have to argue about every goddamn thing?”
Her comeback is so swift, it gives me whiplash. “Fuck’s sake, man. Do you always have to be in charge?”
My lips curve into the beginnings of a smile as she flings open the door and strides down the hallway, her hips swaying. I track every delicious step, my eyes on her ass, each cheek the perfect size for my hands.
Jesus, I need to get my mind off her body and onto the upcoming job. Except the only job that interests me is of the blow variety. My cock would look fantastic sheathed by those pretty lips.
Great. Now I have a hard on.
“Are you coming or what?” Louise hollers over her shoulder as she steps into the elevator.
“I fucking wish,” I mutter, following her.
I keep my eyes to myself as we travel down to the lobby because my cock doesn’t need any further encouragement. Across the parking lot, the turn signals blink as she unlocks her car. Even before I open the passenger door, I know I’ve got a problem. Somehow, I fit my big body inside, but my knees are virtually up to my chin.
“Jesus, did they build this car for hobbits?”
Louise giggles, the sound so alien and unexpected.
So addictive.
“You look hilarious,” she says. “Hang on, I need to take a picture of this. I’m sure your friend Ciaran would appreciate it.”
Her eyes twinkle as she digs her phone out of her pocket. There’s a lightness about her I haven’t witnessed since working together eight years earlier. A weird sensation spreads through my chest—a kind of warmth, almost a burn—and I rub my sternum with a closed fist.
“Take a single picture and you’ll regret it.”
“Oh, yeah?” she taunts. “What you gonna do, big man?”
My dick almost bursts through my jeans, pressing uncomfortably against my zipper. I shift in my seat, which does absolutely nothing to alleviate my discomfort.
“Just fucking drive, woman,” I growl.
“Lightweight.” She puts her phone away. “I’ll take pity on you… this time.”
I grunt, hoping if I stop playing along, she’ll quit with the flirting. It’s playing havoc with my balls, and I imagine they’re already a darker shade of blue. If she carries on pushing my buttons, my planned punishment fuck will be happening in the back seat of this tiny car.
She reverses out of the parking space and eases onto the highway. As her tinpot vehicle trucks along, she falls silent, her eyes on the road ahead as she negotiates the busy traffic heading north. She consistently gnaws her cheek, and her left leg won’t stop jiggling. I don’t underestimate how hard all the waiting around is for her. Thankfully, her tenure in the police force will have taught her that investigations take time. We either do this right, or we risk losing Kiera and the other women for good.
We still might.
“Pull off here,” I say after we’ve been driving for an hour. “Turn right at the end.”
Louise obeys without argument—a refreshing change—and stops at a red light. She rubs her eyes, then yawns.
“You should have let me drive.”
“If it shuts you up, I’ll let you drive on the way back.”
I tsk, shaking my head. She’s so fucking transparent, she gives a pane of glass a run for its money. “So you can have a beer? Nice try, sweetcheeks, but you can’t have it all ways. You wanted to drive. I get the beer.”
“Asshole,” she mutters.
“Y’know, you call me that so often, I should have used it as my cover name.”
“That probably is your true name, which is why you only go by your surname.”
Inclining my head sideways, I raise an eyebrow. “How do you know Draven isn’t my first name?”
She looks at me out of the corner of her eye, then accelerates once the light changes to green. “Well, is it?”
Nice try, sweetcheeks. I recall when we worked together, Louise had tried every angle she could think of to get me to fess up to my full name. It hadn’t worked then, and it won’t work now.
“That the best you’ve got? Your interrogation skills haven’t improved in the last eight years, then.”
A rumble echoes through her chest, arrowing straight for my groin. Fuck’s sake. Is everything she does or says or doesn’t do or doesn’t say going to give me a fucking hard on tonight?
“You are such a jackass, Draven. Fine. If you won’t tell me, I’ll make up a Christian name for you, and it’ll be way better than Harrison.” She cradles her chin, considering her options. “Got it.” She beams. “From now on, I’ll call you Dotty.”
I burst out laughing. “Dotty Draven?”
“It’s as good a name as any,” she says, her grin almost splitting her face in two. “Anyway, I heard ‘Dotty’ means slightly mad or eccentric to the British. Suits you perfectly.”
“How the fuck do you know that piece of trivia?”
She shrugs. “I read a lot. I like words.”
“You’re telling me,” I say, my tone loaded with enough sarcasm that I could pass for British. “You use enough of ‘em.”
Her hand shoots out, whacking me on the upper arm.
“Ow.” I rub where she hit me, though it didn’t hurt one bit, but I’m enjoying this exchange far too much to let it fizzle out. I think we both need a few minutes of lightheartedness, especially in light of the investigation. That she’s holding it together when her sister has been missing for almost a week now, and after I shared what I’d discovered about Shala just endears her to me more. She’s one badass woman. A queen fit for a king.
I intend to wear that fucking crown.
“Serves you right,” she says.
“You hit hard… for a girl.”
Amusement pinwheels across her face. “I held back. Didn’t want to make you cry.”
I snort a laugh. “Dream on.”
“Oh, I will, Dotty. I will.”
I laugh harder. It’s not something I do all that often, and it feels weird yet oddly addictive. Without even knowing it, she’s chipping away at how angry and hurt I was about yesterday. It’s no longer compartmentalized. It’s unpacked, smoothed over, and put away. That doesn’t mean I won’t punish-fuck her. I intend to. She deserves it for not trusting who I am—for thinking the worst of me. Then again, if the way she kisses is any indication of how she fucks, she’ll enjoy that punishment fuck as much as I’ll enjoy giving it to her.
It’s odd how life works out. Back when we worked together, I’d thought about making a move, but at twenty-one, she’d been too young, too wide-eyed, and far too innocent.
Now, eight years later at twenty-nine, she’s fair game.
“Pull over there, on the left… unless that space is too difficult for you to park in.”
“Boring,” she says in a singsong voice.
For the third time in less than a minute, a laugh splutters out of me. I think that’s a lifetime record. Not for the first time, I thank Christ that Ciaran isn’t here. He’d never let me live this down.
She parallel parks in one attempt, flashing me a triumphant grin. When she goes to get out of the car, I stop her.
“This club of Shala’s… well, it might not be what you’re expecting.”
She frowns, peering at me in the dim light of the streetlamp hovering above where she’s parked. “Expand.”
“It’s an S&M club.”
“Right.” She flattens her lips.
“Nothing wrong with a bit of kink between two consenting adults, Lola.” I wink, and if I’m not mistaken, she presses her thighs together. Interesting.
“Oh, I know. I’m not judging the people who go there. I’m just… never mind.” She expels a heavy sigh. “Okay, let’s do this.”
Climbing out of the car, her gaze falls on the entrance to the building, and a stream of emotions crisscross her face. I get it now. What I initially read as disapproval was despair. If I had to guess, she’s thinking that a guy who runs an S&M club, who also happens to be a sex trafficker, isn’t likely to be into praise kink.
After looking both ways, we cross the street and walk up to the entrance. Capturing Louise around the waist, I murmur in her ear, “Stick close to me, okay?”
She tilts back her head and looks up at me—our size difference over a foot in height. “Like glue.”
“Good girl.”
Without batting an eyelid, security steps aside to allow us access to the lobby of the club. I press my palm into the small of Louise’s back, easing her past the burly guards, then, after paying the entrance fee, we enter the club.
At first glance, our surroundings look just like any other club. A DJ plays pounding beats, strobe lights dance across the wooden floor, and clubbers sway, enjoying the music. Others line up at the bar drinking beer, chatting with friends. But I’ve done my research, and the upper levels are where the private rooms are, available for paying clients to fulfill their every desire.
I order myself a beer, and a Coke for her, before handing it over with a smirk. She raises her eyes to the ceiling, then turns her back to lean against the bar. After a couple of minutes pass, she rises up on her tiptoes and presses her lips to my ear. The whispered contact sends a tremor through my body. Fuck, she’s becoming impossible to resist.
“Looks like a normal club to me.”
I jerk my chin, alerting her to the balcony running around the next level with at least ten doors visible from our vantage point.
“Ah,” she says.
I check my watch. “Drink up.”
She surprises me by not arguing or asking me a half dozen questions about why I want her to finish her drink. The truth is I’m itching to move things along. I don’t want her here for a moment longer than necessary. Given my plan, there’s a good chance we could bump into Shala, and I’m not sure what she’ll do if that happens. She’s professional to a fault, but this is her sister’s life on the line, and when emotions that strong are involved, it’s hard not to react. When the intel came through that he’d be here, I’d gone back and forth, trying to decide whether to come here alone or bring a female member of my team with me. In the end, I’d gone with bringing Louise, if only to save myself a knee in the balls when she found out I’d excluded her. I just hope she keeps it together.
I drain my beer and take her hand before leading her through the throngs of people dancing to the music. On the far side of the dance floor, the crowd thins out, and we move far enough away from the loudspeakers to allow us to talk without hollering at each other. I pull her into my arms, holding her close, drinking in the scent of her shampoo, the subtle aroma of her perfume, and the way her curves fit so perfectly against my hard lines.
“What are you doing?” she murmurs, her gaze exploring and filled with suggestion.
Cradling her jaw, I angle her to my liking. Her lips part—an invitation I gladly accept. Bending my head, I hover an inch from her mouth, my eyes not leaving hers for a second.
“This.”
Pressing my lips to hers, I pull her even closer. Unlike our previous punishing kisses, this one is gentle, probing, sensual. I part her lips with my tongue, stroking against hers, exploring every inch of her mouth. I feel rather than hear the vibration in her chest when she moans into my mouth.
I draw back, my gaze returning to hers. “Still with me, Lola?”
Her eyes are glazed, heady with desire that matches my own. She nods, swallows, then nods again, almost as if she’s having to convince herself. God, I need to fuck her, and soon, before my dick explodes. But first, we have to find Kiera.
“Let’s take a walk.”
My team provided a map of the club, hence how I know that the direction we’re headed leads straight to the likely location of Shala’s office. Leaving the crowds behind us, I turn left and open a door that runs into a narrow hallway. I catch sight of two heavyset men guarding a black door at the far end, their chests straining against their suit jackets. Definitely packing.
As am I.
That has to be Shala’s office. What other reason would security have to be there? Keeping my gaze directly ahead, I stroll toward them, Louise’s hand tight within mine. As we approach, the guards step forward, blocking any further progress.
“This area is off-limits, sir.”
I feign surprise. “Oh, is it?” I glance around. “We’ve booked room ten. Is it not this way?”
The second guy sniggers and gives Louise a full head to toe appraisal, his tongue darting out to dampen his lips.
Bingo. Here’s my way in.
Widening my eyes in an intimidating fashion, I draw myself up to my full height, chest protruding, and my muscles straining beneath my shirt. “Did you just check out my woman?” I step forward until my nose almost touches the other man’s. “You fucking look at her again, and I’ll break your face.”
I raise my voice, loud enough for Shala to hear on the other side of the door. I’ve come across men like this before. They don’t take much goading to leap into a fist fight. My theory proves sound when the one nearest to me throws a punch. I duck, then return the favor with a shot to the guy’s abdomen. He doubles over with a grunt. After dodging an incoming fist from the second security guard, I grip his wrist and twist his arm up his back, slamming him face first against Shala’s door. By this time, the first one has recovered and lunges toward me, but Louise takes him out with a sharp kick to his knee. He bellows in agony as his leg gives way.
There’s my fucking woman. What a legend she is. Fearless, a warrior, a fucking queen.
Seconds later, Shala’s door wrenches open. “What the fuck is going on out here?”
Yep, that’s him. That’s the vile piece of shit. The urge to snap his neck crawls down my arms, my fingers flexing in readiness. But if we’re to find Kiera and the other women, Louise isn’t the only one who needs to remain professional and in character.
I release the guy I have a hold of and step back. “You the boss?”
Shala narrows his eyes. “Who wants to know?”
“Me. I want to fucking know. This dick”—I point my chin at the man who’d checked out Louise—“drooled all over my girlfriend. We only wanted directions to our room…for a private party for two, not a fucking gang bang.”
Shala keeps his gaze trained on me, a muscle flickering in his cheek. “You’re in the wrong place.”
“Well, I know that.” I theatrically roll my eyes. “Look, I’ve paid good money for tonight. If this is the kind of treatment you dish out to paying customers, I’ll make sure to tell everyone I know to avoid this place like a dose of syphilis.”
Louise hasn’t spoken during the entire exchange, but my final comment brings out a snort of laughter. “You tell ‘em, baby cakes.”
Perfect, she’s playing along. Although… baby cakes ?
Casing her waist, I drop a hand to her hip, yank her to me, and plant a hard kiss on her lips. “Anything for you, hot stuff.”
Shala grimaces. “I apologize for the unhelpfulness of my staff, Mr.—?”
“Bennett.” I thrust out a hand. “Harrison Bennett. And this is my Bonnie.”
“Mr. Bennett.” He reaches into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and removes two cards, then hands them to me. “Please, give these to the hostess on level two. She’ll bring a bottle of champagne and a bowl of strawberries to your room. On the house.”
I take the cards, scrutinizing them closely. “That’s real nice of you, sir. Real nice indeed.”
Shala grunts, turning a furious gaze at his goons. “Direct these customers to the upper level…if that isn’t too challenging for you.” He turns around and goes back inside his office, slamming the door.
Flashing a triumphant look at both security guards, I get a final dig in—one they won’t dare risk reacting to. “Guess you just shit all over your bonus.”
The one Louise nailed in the knee flexes his fingers. Open, closed. Open, closed. Oh, the restraint. It’s fucking priceless.
“Back into the club. Far side. Go up the metal staircase.”
“Now, was that so hard?” I grin. “Come on, my sweet. I owe you a spanking.”
Louise giggles. “Make it good and hard, baby cakes.”
We return to the main part of the club, and the second we’re out of sight, we burst out laughing.
“Fucking baby cakes?” I ask.
Louise grins. “That was fun.” Then her smile falls. “He’s the one, huh? The one who took Kiera and all those other women?”
“Possibly. Although at the moment, we only have Moretti’s word, and he’s a sick sonofabitch too, just like Shala. For all we know, Moretti could’ve given us Shala’s name to try to stop another trafficker usurping his patch while he’s banged up. Until we get hard evidence, I’m taking nothing for granted.”
She nods. “So, what next?”
“Now we know he’s here, we go back to the car, wait for him to come out, then we follow him.”
“You think he’ll lead us to where the women are being held?”
I hitch a shoulder. “Maybe, maybe not. We won’t know unless we track him.” I tuck a lock of fake hair behind her ear. “You ready?”
“You betcha ass I’m ready.”
“Then, let’s get the hell out of here.”